


By the Sea

by chanting_lotus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clueless Derek Hale, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mates, Pining, Porn With Plot, Selkies, but not too much, i love them both sm, i want derek to have nice things, like enough plot to make me feel good about writing this, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanting_lotus/pseuds/chanting_lotus
Summary: He watched as the kid forwent his papers and picked up Derek’s seal skin. He froze in his seat then, could feel the boy’s fingers on his body where he ran them over the coat. They were soft and foreign and warm.Then, the kid had smiled at him—all pink lips and moles—and said, “Oh, it looks like you dropped this. Here you go.” He draped Derek’s coat back over his chair and stooped down to gather his things.The interaction had not phased Lydia, but it was rare that something did. She didn’t know all about his kind though. The mating exchange was held close and secret and only told when someone was certain on their mate. And yet, somehow the boy had known. Derek watched him walk out of café, long limbs and hair sticking up.His mate.





	By the Sea

Derek was getting coffee with Lydia, a banshee who he knew through his uncle, Peter, when the kid had scurried over. He was a human; Derek could smell it on him. It was obvious that he wasn’t actually coming over to them and was rather towards the exit with too many things in his hands, when he tripped over Derek’s coat.

The sensation of the shoe over his fur left Derek wincing, and he instinctively turned back to—to do something. Instead, he watched as the kid forwent his papers and picked up Derek’s seal skin. He froze in his seat then, could feel the boy’s fingers on his body where he ran them over the coat. They were soft and foreign and warm.

Then, the kid had smiled at him—all pink lips and _moles_ —and said, “Oh, it looks like you dropped this. Here you go.” He draped Derek’s coat back over his chair and stooped down to gather his things.

The interaction had not phased Lydia, but it was rare that something did. She didn’t know all about his kind though. The mating exchange was held close and secret and only told when someone was certain on their mate. And yet, somehow the boy had known. Derek watched him walk out of café, long limbs and hair sticking up.

_His mate._

He didn’t cut the meeting short with the banshee, as much as he wanted to. After the boy had left, he pulled his coat into his lap and wrung it around his hands. Derek could feel the pull, to the sea, yes, but now also to his mate. His heart sang for the one that could see the beauty of his seal skin and give it back, willingly let Derek keep it.

When Lydia had to rush off for her shift at the morgue, Derek wandered outside with her. The café was good to him, close enough to the sea that he could lift his head and feel the water spray from it but human in a way that intrigued him. The sea crashed nearby and on the wind was the smell of his mate. It came through from the smell of diesel, probably from whatever vehicle the boy drove.

Derek stalked the scent back into the tiny college village. His family enjoyed this bay, safe in their coves because the people were always changing up here. It wouldn’t matter that he aged slower, because when he came up from the sea, no one would recognize him anyhow. Thus, he could walk around without women who had seen as little girls casting side long looks at him, wondering, _Do I know him?_

The boy stayed in a tiny cottage with two others—a floppy haired boy with a rattle in his lungs and a pale girl who smelled like the other boy’s bedmate. The cottage was old and smelt it. The wood was warped some from the proximity to the sea, but there were lots of windows and small, mossy plants growing on their frames.

There was rarely reason to interact with humans, as the supernatural thrived here. Lydia was a banshee, as was her grandmother, and her great-great grandmother. His family knew of hers and would always be reintroduced each time, whenever fate brought the Martins back.

Wood nymphs lived along the shore, willing to come and play with them whenever the night was quiet enough. Fae lived deeper in the wood and would dance in their sands during the new moon, seducing and disremembering humans. So, Derek was a bit lost on how to approach his human mate.

Instead, he sat outside the house, along the tree line, and used his senses to get to know the boy. He learned that his name was Stiles, odd even by human customs. He had a father, old and needing guiding when it came to food, that Stiles loved deeply. He was clumsy. The two that lived with him was his best friend Scott and his fiancée, Allison. That word gave him pause, and when he had raised it in question during a family swim, his mother had looked at him curiously.

His Uncle Peter explained it was a word for humans when they had chosen their mate but had yet to complete their ceremony. It was confusing, as he didn’t understand why someone would wait to take their mate. Derek had been waiting his whole life and if he knew that Stiles would be responsive to it, he would have went into their cottage and taken him on the floor the moment they had collided.

But it seemed to be the human way, so Derek watched and learned more about it. They seemed happy, and Stiles was happy for them. He could sit there in the scent of his mate’s joy all night, the sea a small call in the back of his mind. He had yet to tell his family, wanting to wrap up in his mate and carry the scent home as way of answering them.

His mother would understand, as their father was human. While they lived longer, they only got one mate, and he could see the tinged sadness in his mother. Derek knew when he came home, finally covered in his mate, she would yip at him, pushing herself along his body to show her love. She hadn’t shifted since their father had passed, so there would be no gentle hands or soft words in the human tongue. Derek didn’t need that to communicate with her.

Stiles never brought anyone home, though Derek noticed the way that his eyes followed strong looking men whenever he would go onto the coastal campus. It did not anger him. In fact, he felt grateful to know that his form was acceptable to his mate.

He knew that he was stocky, and that women enjoyed his frame. Wherever he went in his human skin, eyes would follow him. He could smell want from most of them, something to do with his eyes and arms, as Lydia had once put it. It would be wonderful if the first time he saw his mate since he had gifted him back his coat that the smell of desire would waft from Stiles.

Derek had devised a way to approach the boy, a few months after his coat had been returned to him. Stiles would leave two hours after Scott and Allison some days, the same days each human-week. Their time was different than his and it took him time to see the pattern, but he was certain that today was one of the days.

As he watched Scott and Allison get into a car together, he focused on the sound of his mate’s heartbeat. Still slow and steady with sleep. Scott had walked to the other side of the car to open the door for his mate, and Derek saw the glint of his band in the sun. He put his hand into the pocket front of his coat, where two rings sat, and he rubbed them.

It had not been hard to find golden and silver bands at the bottom of his sea. Sometimes, the humans would come out to toss them, smelling of loss or regret or anger. Mainly anger. More often would the humans come out to the ocean and lose it in their merriment. So, he had plucked two from the sands and brought them with him.

He hoped that this would be a good introduction to his mate. A selkie could only keep away from their mate for so long before they fell sick, and Derek was pushing it to make sure that his human was comfortable. The sea called to him still, but his senses were beginning to dull. Fish did not taste as good as it once did, and he followed the long distance between his home and Stiles’ by memory, not by scent anymore.

After the two humans left, Derek crept to the back door. They rarely locked it, as the humidity of the sea made the doorframe swell and made it hard for it to close. It was rarely opened, and the swelling had messed with the latch. It gave easy to his strength, though there was a rough noise as it pushed in.

This was the first time he had been inside the home. He entered into what appeared the kitchen. It was painted a cheery blue, one that the humans would call ‘sea-blue’. Derek knew the sea was darker and bluer than they could understand. There was a small table of a light-colored wood with four chairs around it. A mug sat on the wood, the same smell of coffee the way Stiles liked it at the café. There were papers scattered on the table and they smelled strongly of his mate.

He turned his head to attempt to read them. Lydia had been teaching him since she had met him, keeping up with it even as she claimed it to be a lost cause. He was able to make out ship names and menus now, and even some of the words on his mate’s papers. The pictures were clear though.

It was depictions of the wood nymphs, and Fae. Both were wrong, of course, but it seemed like Stiles was studying the tales. He knew that some humans took up their history as studies, and sometimes, his uncle or a Fae or a banshee would give them a morsel of truth. He sat down at the table, carefully pushing the papers away to see the ones underneath. Derek wanted to know if Stiles knew anything about his kind, about what the humans called selkies.

He found information on dragons—a long, died out breed—and elves. Those had never existed, as they were just Fae and human children, living longer than a human and having less magick than their enchanted parent. He had a lot about elves, and most of it rang true.

So much of it rang true that Derek felt slightly uncomfortable looking at it. He wondered if a Fae had told him one night, perhaps with Stiles underneath him. Or maybe, a disgruntled Faeling had spilled more secrets than the supernatural knew.

Derek was still staring at the notes, with Stiles’ unintelligible scrawl across them, when he heard his mate shift in his bed sheets. He sat up straighter, swiveling his head to watch the boy shuffle in. Stiles did not disappoint. He came in with his eyes still shut, through the hallway and into the living room. There was a half wall between the kitchen and the living room, low enough that Derek could still watch.

Stiles bumped into a sofa in their living room, muttering at it while he stretched his arms overhead. His shirt rode up to show some pale, tight skin and moles. Derek’s mouth went dry with the realization that his theory on how far Stiles’ moles went was most likely correct.

It seemed like his mate was content to walk blind for the next while, so Derek would need to make himself known. He went to stand up and say his greeting, the human words jumbled funny in his mouth, when his chair made a screeching noise across the tiled floor. His mate’s eyes flared open, his heart beating much too quick for Derek’s comfort, and a flash of white crossed across the room.

Derek managed to duck due to his reflexes and nothing more, the half wall protecting him from whatever Stiles had thrown at him. The scent of energy bounced along the walls and he popped back up to say wonderingly, “You can do magick.”

This did not seem to calm Stiles, who looked at him with wide, wild eyes and wisps of light energy emitting from his palms and circling his forearms. He stared at Derek for a moment, blinking hard. “You’re the guy from the café.” Stiles said. Derek grinned, pleased to be recognized by his mate. “You’ve been following me around! I knew it, I told Scott and he said, ‘Oh, Stiles, you’re just being paranoid, it’s a small town, there’s no one out to kill you.’ But I knew it!”

“I’m not out to kill you.” Derek responded. He knew his mate liked to ramble, had heard his voice plenty of times. Through the wood of the cottage or from the tree line, so it was soft and disordered, but the lull of it was enjoyable. He wondered how many times Stiles had seen him.

Stiles stopped his tirade then. “You’re not?” He asked. “Then what are you doing? And what are you doing in my house?” His white light had dimmed while he ranted, but now it flared up again. Derek wondered if Stiles was the Faeling that had spilled all the information, if he was so willing to call his magick in front of a stranger.

Derek pulled the rings out of his coat, approaching his mate carefully. He felt giddy knowing that Stiles was able to protect himself, was strong _and_ pretty _and_ smart. Stiles let him get closer, curiosity bright in his eyes. So, perhaps he wasn’t the most capable in the self-preservation realm. You can’t have everything, Derek reasoned.

The rings glinted in his hands. He had attempted to find one that would fit the slender mold of Stiles’ hands and thought that the silver one with a tiny, clear jewel protruding from it would fit well. Stiles’ scent changed to confused when he saw what Derek was offering.

“I figured, that you may want to get mated the human way too.” Derek explained.

“ _What_?” Stiles seemed baffled, his voice gone high and squeaky. He took a step back from Derek—and this had been the closest they’ve been since the day in the café, and Derek didn’t like him moving away, so he stepped closer.

“Well, you gave me back my coat.”

His mate’s eyes tracked to where Derek wore his coat. As human fashions progressed, his family had found ways of keeping their skin on them at all times. It made for them to be able to keep it away from those that would harm them easier. And so that they could slip back to the sea whenever they wished.

Understanding dawned on Stiles’ face then, looking at Derek’s almost black coat, soft and supple and lined with his pristine fur. “You’re a selkie.” He breathed out.

“And you’re a Faeling.” Derek was certain of it now, could smell it this close to the boy, after he had cast magick. He may have been twice removed, his mother or father a true Faeling and he half of them, which is why in the café and on, he only picked up human. “And my mate.”

Stiles shook his head when Derek finished talking. “What do you mean, your mate?”

“You gave me back my coat.” He didn’t realize he would have to explain it all out. Stiles seemed fairly certain of himself when he had performed the ritual, so it didn’t make sense why he was uncertain now. “Making you… my mate.”

The rings started to feel wet in his hand, and then he realized that he was sweating. The boy in front of him said nothing, just watching Derek with his large, amber eyes. “And, since I thought you were human, I thought maybe you would want to mate the human way as well. I thought that was what kept you from coming to the sea, so that I could push you into the sands and make our souls one.” He paused. “Or you could take me on the sands, if that’s what you prefer.” It wasn’t his preference, but they would have the rest of Stiles’ life for them to try whatever they wanted.

The idea of taking Stiles, however, made his entire body feel hot. He was glad he had waited to mate with Stiles, because it meant their first time could be by the sea. He could imagine the waves lapping at their ankles while Derek buried himself into his mate’s warm heat. How the cold water would rush up and keep them from feeling to feverish. How Stiles would sound as he shoved into him, with the crash of the sea and the call of the birds.

Stiles face went red however, as Derek spoke. He didn’t smell angry, perhaps a slight bit embarrassed. But it was more than that as well. It was a complicated, human emotion. “Oh, shit, so that’s an actual truth.” His hands went up to fist at his hair.

Derek watched him, unsure of how he should respond. The rings were in his fist, at his side, getting warmer by the minute. “Okay, so if I ask you if certain things are real, you’ll tell me? And you aren’t just fucking with me?”

The word ‘fucking’ meant something different to Derek, but context clues left him thinking that Stiles thought he might be lying. He nodded, knowing that he may snap at his mate should he open his mouth. His sisters always said his blood was warm enough to steam the waters. Derek would tell him anything, he was his mate.

“You’re… part seal?”

“It’s not like that.” Derek winced. He didn’t feel half human, half seal. He just felt like both, a layover of both that intertwined and made him. “Whenever I’m in this form, it’s not like I forget what it’s like to be part of the sea.”

“Okay.” Stiles nodded and moved over to the couch. His magick had disappeared during his panic. Derek settled down next to him, far enough away that they weren’t touching, but close enough that he could feel his warmth. “Okay. You can only shift into a human once every seven years?”

An emphatic headshake came before Derek could even form his words. Many selkies chose to go long periods without crawling out of the sea, and he was usually in that category. Laura would climb out every new moon to dance with the Fae, and his uncle Peter acted more human than seal, only coming back for full moon swims. Derek preferred to not come up for several months at a time. “We can shift whenever we want.”

“Then where did the whole seven years thing come from?”

Derek shrugged. “We don’t shift often.”

“I’ve seen you around for months.” Stiles pointed out; his eyes gleaming with suspicion.

The answer was easy for that, as Derek knew why he adopted the human form and it was sitting in front of him. “I wanted to see you. Mates are precious, they can inspire one of us to stay from the sea for much longer.”

Stiles held up his hand, like what Derek was saying was too much. He closed his mouth. “Will you die without your seal skin? Like, of loneliness?”

That question was a tricky one. “I suppose,” He answered honestly. None of his family had died from losing their seal skin, not in the last three generations. They could lose their life from loss of love. Derek made the decision that Stiles probably didn’t need to know that yet. “But more often, it’s because we go mad that we can’t visit the sea.”

“The whole mate thing…” Stiles paused. Derek leaned forward, trying to show how attentive he was. “Is it a forever kind of deal? Like soul-mate thing?”

“Do you not want it to be?” Derek curled into himself. It was starting to make sense—an accident, that Stiles could not want to be his mate. He would have to stay here, to be with him, in this tiny town with all its wood warped from the sea and college students.

Before he could sink to the bottom of his sadness, Stiles threw up his hands. “I didn’t say that!” He hurried. “I just, I don’t know you.”

“I’m Derek. We’ll have our whole lives for learning each other.” Derek could see it. He would age slower than Stiles yes, but as the boy was younger than he was now, he may only live an extra fifteen to thirty years without his mate. And, since Stiles was a Faeling, however small it was in his blood, he may live longer. Or shorter, but that was not a possibility Derek wanted to entertain.

He would build Stiles a stone home by the sea, on a cliff big and high enough that the sea would always be reaching for it. Derek would have a cove under it, and they could spend their days walking the beach. At night, Derek could convince the nymphs that Stiles was safe to be around. He would walk to the Fae and ask them to talk to Stiles. His mate would know everything about his history.

They could grow old together, and Derek would bring him fish every week. When Stiles grew too frail to walk, they could swim in the gentle pools of calm in caves. Stiles could teach him how to read and Derek would teach him how to seal call. _Derek could see it all._

But Stiles was hesitant to the idea. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way that he didn’t look Derek in the eye. “It doesn’t have to be.” Derek allowed. The very idea warred against his nature. His mate would always be the only for him. But Stiles could have more, if he wanted. “Not for you. You could, if you wanted, you could leave when you wanted.” It would shorten his lifespan; it would kill him slowly by heartbreak.

He would get to have some time with his mate though, and so many of his kind never even met theirs.

“What about you?”

“That’s not an option for me.” Derek said evasively. He put some bite into his words, to tell Stiles to back off of it. “You’re my mate.”

Stiles looked to the clock on their wall, a small thing that looked like a bird house. It sat quaint on the wall, but Derek couldn’t tell the time. The lines made no sense to him. “Can I have a few days to think?” His mate asked. “Alone?”

Derek would give him anything. So, he nodded and stood to leave. The introduction went somehow worse and better than he expected. On one hand, he thought he would find Stiles completely repelled from him, but there was faint attraction swirling around in his direction. It helped the way his heart sped when Derek talked on fucking him. On the other, he thought he’d find a knowledgeable human that would sit down and say, “What took you so long?” before divesting both of them of their clothes.

He started to walk to the back door, planning to go through it so that he could make sure it shut well for his mate’s home. However, a thought tugged at him, and he turned back to Stiles. The rings were still in his hand, feeling heavy.

“Could I ask something of you?”

The boy startled from where he sat, already lost in thought. He jerked his head though to let Derek know he would answer. “Will you. You don’t have to wear it. But would you keep this?” He picked up the tiny band and held it out to Stiles. It could maybe explain his intentions better than his words could.

He took the ring, cheeks blushing. As Derek left, he cradled it in his hand.

\--

Derek stayed in the sea for the next week. He heard nothing of Stiles, and he was fairly certain he had maybe one more shift in him before he grew too sick. It had become so apparent that his family began to notice. They never left him alone and even Uncle Peter had returned to the sea. He ate less as he watched the shore line from the rocky outcroppings of their cove.

Stiles came at night, eleven days after Derek had met him in person. He was the only one to travel out this far, with most other humans sticking to the finer sands that had walkways and lights and kind beaches nearer to the tiny town.

He looked as if he had been walking for a while, a fine sheen of sweat sticking to his skin. Derek slipped off of his cove, with his mother making noise about what he was doing, to go to the shoreline. Even if Stiles came here to say no, Derek wanted his last time as human to be looking upon him.

His mate heard his approach, casting his eyes to the sea. Derek knew how it looked – one minute, nothing but the waves, and then a naked man coming out of the sea carrying a fur coat.

Even he had sense enough to admit it was odd.

Derek watched as Stiles caught sight of him, how he was backlit by the moon. His heart beat quicker, and Derek’s responded in turn. He had no idea what to say to him. He was reaching the sands, still trying to figure it out, when a shimmer of moonlight caught off something on Stiles’ finger. He was wearing the ring.

That was the only thing Derek could think to comment on, so he opened his mouth to do so. Stiles was close enough that a human could hear over the roar of the water. Before he managed to get reacquainted with his human tongue, Stiles was on him.

He placed his hands on Derek’s broad shoulders, where they met his neck and pulled him down. It wasn’t much distance between them and suddenly it was closed. Stiles’ mouth was soft and warm and wet, and it took Derek a minute to catch up to the program. He did with vigor.

He put his hands all over his mate, a small, choking sound in the back of his throat as he dropped his skin. Stiles was wearing too many clothes, and Derek had a mind to tear them off to get to his skin. The shirt tore easily, loud in between their breaths.

Derek cringed, expecting Stiles to cry over the loss. Humans were peculiar over their clothes. Instead, Stiles just said, “Yes,” and shook it the rest of the way off. His skin was not as warm as Derek’s, but it felt twice as soft. Though he did not know what Stiles planned, if he would still be here come tomorrow, tonight was an answer.

They moved far enough away from the water that Derek felt comfortable pushing Stiles to the sands. The boy beneath him shifted some, unaccustomed to the feeling of sand on his bare skin. He wore no shoes, but the belt on his jeans was besting Derek. He knew that he had shirts hidden away for Stiles, yet he doubted his pants would fit.

Stiles helped him remove the pants, chest heaving all the while. He crooned Derek’s name, and he couldn’t help but whisper Stiles into the boy’s neck. His cock hung fat and heavy between his legs, dripping onto the sands. When his mate managed to rid himself off the garments, Derek slotted himself on top of his body.

It was like a live wire, feeling him pressed against Derek’s flesh. Their cocks brushed against each other, causing his stomach to tighten. Derek rutted up against the sensation. Stiles guided his lips back to kissing, bucking up against Derek himself. His hands dug into the meat of his shoulder.

Derek pulled up Stiles' legs, to give more leverage while he rubbed against him. It seemed like something he wanted, a babble of yes and please falling from his lips. Derek put his hands to his mate’s hole, expecting to need to fuck him with his tongue and fingers, lose himself down there, to get him loose enough.

He found that Stiles was wet and loose already. _He prepared_ , Derek thought, pressing his index inside. The heat was maddening. The boy relaxed beneath him, shifting down to get more of Derek inside. The selkie couldn’t help himself, attaching his teeth to Stiles’ neck while fingering him. He didn’t need to be opened, but Derek liked the sounds and needed a moment.

He added a second finger in, which just increased Stiles’ babble. Derek moved his teeth away, afraid to taste blood yet. His mate’s cock was leaking against his stomach. It was a pretty thing, somewhat small and thin, but Derek thought it was lovely. He watched it bob up and down while he added the third.

Stiles was begging then, well and truly. His hands had fallen to the cleft of muscle of Derek’s upper arms. He squeezed them gently, seeming too strung out to use strength. The selkie didn’t want to waste a moment more, the return of his love making him feel strong. The sea sang behind him and the woods danced before him and his mate was writhing beneath him.

Derek attempted to pace himself into fucking Stiles. He paused when the head of his cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle and into the wet heat beyond. Stiles made a strangled, snarling sound though, and used his arms and back to shove Derek further in.

The motion wrenched a grunt out of the selkie, panting as he adjusted to the level of sensation. He had to shut his eyes to sight of his mate. His hands found Stiles’ hips, as Stiles’ calves lay on his shoulders, and he pistoned out and back in. His mate cried out, loud and sharp and wanting. It was a race then, a sense of urgency deep under his skin. A need was clawing at him and he was powerless to do anything but meet it. Stiles teared at him, yelled and moaned and begged and shuddered and Derek wanted so bad to feel his release. As Derek pushed closer on his own, fucking into his mate’s hole well and truly now, he reached down to Stiles’ cock.

It was slightly smaller than the height of his hand and was covered completely by his palm. Stiles said his name as Derek began to fist it. He could feel the muscles jumping in Stiles’ legs, in Stiles’ stomach. His mate tightened up impossibly underneath him, all but stilling Derek’s thrusts as he came. His mouth was open and bitten red, and his neck and chest were flushed from the exertion.

Once Stiles began to come back down, Derek found it easy to chase his own orgasm. His body was pliable under Derek, easy to push into and tuck further under. He shoved Stiles a few feet up the sands while he shook and came inside Stiles.

Both felt exhausted and loose-boned when Derek pulled out. A small trickle of his cum came out of Stiles’ hole, pulling at deep feelings of possessiveness inside the selkie. He rolled his back on the sands and then deposited his mate onto his chest. Stiles squeaked out something about public indecency, and Derek pulled his skin and put it over both of them before going to sleep.

When he woke up, he was alone. Derek’s seal skin still sat atop him, and he had to marvel at it for a moment. Even knowing what he now knew, Stiles had still chosen to let Derek keep his skin. Then he remembered the night before, and that now Stiles was absent. He cast his eyes along the beach. He could feel his heart threaten to break. Derek tried to think positively, that he had him the night prior, and that Stiles was wearing his ring. Before he could give in completely, he spotted the boy a ways away, near the tree line. Stiles was wearing his pants and nothing else.

Derek looked up at him, noting how he was sitting near a fire. He got up and wrapped his coat around his waist before joining his mate. The smell of the fish made Derek realize he was starving. He could tell from the scales that his Uncle Peter had caught them, and Derek wondered if they spoke at all while he was asleep.

Stiles had cooked up a fish and left three for Derek. So, after he ate one, Stiles watching with morbid curiosity, he sat next to the boy. His mate picked at his fish, leaning his shoulder on Derek.

After a few moments of silence, Stiles sighed. The sound seized Derek by the throat, and he worried that this was it. Stiles would say that he enjoyed last night, but he had a life planned, and Derek wasn’t in it. Instead, Stiles said, “I want to go out on some dates with you.”

Dates. Derek knew what dates were, but only because they were what Lydia liked to talk about so frequently. They were what people did when they were interested in each other, when they wanted to get to know them better. A smile lit up Derek, and he struggled to keep from laughter. He felt like he could jump up and start hooting, start spinning Stiles around.

“I’d like that,” Derek said instead.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this was a really short blurb that I saw a tumblr post idea for and it got stuck in my head 
> 
> i hope you guys like it--I just really wanted to write something fun and quick. it's also my first post here so yay (I guess, hopefully?)


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